Page 81 of Teacher of the Year

Each child turns to the one next to them, there’s no chaos or confusion as we’ve practiced this over and over until it became seamless. They begin speaking to each other using the sentence stem provided, and I push myself up to a squat, popping around and listening in to as many partnerships as possible. I glance over and both adults have taken laptops out and are feverishly typing notes. My class, no different than any other day, shines. Only now, the Teacher of the Year folks are here to witness them. Proud doesn’t begin to describe how I’m feeling.

I keep waiting for a catastrophe to happen, but no meteors crash into our room, and the ceiling does not cave in. There’s almost a disaster at snack time when Mr. Ali helps Kate with her yogurt by ripping the end off, and it spurts all over his shirt. Before I can intervene, Kevin runs and gets the wipes and begins cleaning Mr. Ali up, and again, my heart fills with joy.

Outside during morning recess, I finally steal a moment to chat with them both.

“Mr. Ali, I’m sorry again about your shirt.”

“Please, call me Samir, and truly, it’s fine. Kevin was there before I could even ask for help. Your class clearly takes care of each other.”

“Marvin, both Samir and my experiences lean more toward upper elementary and middle school, so visiting kindergarten opens a whole new door for us,” Dr. Hayes adds, pulling her hair back into a tie as the wind whips it around.

“I wondered about that,” I reply.

“You clearly have created a community full of respect, love, and learning,” Mr. Ali adds.

“Thank you, they’re fantastic kids, and I truly do love learning with them.”

And with that, I notice Zoe searching for a push on the swings and excuse myself.

The rest of the morning unfolds without much fanfare. Both Dr. Hayes and Mr. Ali sit at tables during Writing Time and seem amazed at how much actual writing kindergarteners do. Pages and pages appear as the children feverishly write. We are working on increasing our volume, and they’re nailing it. At lunch, I drop the class at the cafeteria, and quickly check my phone.

Olan: ????????

Olan’s emoji game impresses me. I tap back a heart and my stomach flutters as I think about thanking him later in person. Back in the classroom, Dr. Hayes and Mr. Ali sit at one of the tables chatting. Dr. Hayes sips from a silver water bottle, and seeing me, they pause their conversation.

“Marvin, come sit.” Mr. Ali nods toward a chair at the end of the table.

“We like our interviews to feel informal, casual. It’s why we try to spend time in the classroom first, to watch you in action, observe your teaching, and now we’ll have a chat,” Dr. Hayes begins.

My worry about this day melts away with their friendliness and how my students behaved this morning, although the importance of actually winning the award nags at my stomach.

“We both enjoyed our time with your class this morning,” Mr. Ali says.

“Truly, it’s no wonder you’re so well loved within your community,” Dr. Hayes continues.

“Thank you. Both. That means so much.”

“And our first question is about community. How do you involve your student’s families in their education?”

“I took a sexy bath with a parent yesterday, after railing him,” flashes in my head, but probably wouldn’t be the wisest answer. But the mention of families jolts my brain to Olan and how I’m clearly catching feelings for him and where this appears to be headed. We haven’t labeled our relationship but have clearly moved past hanging out. Focus, Marvin, on the task at hand.

“Before the school year even starts, I’m thinking about ways to engage families in their child’s education. I offer home visits for those who feel it would help their child, and they have been a wonderful way to build a connection prior to the first day. Daily emails, they’re short but offer an outline of what we’ve read and learned about, topics discussions, that sort of thing. They help families engage with their children about school. And in addition to volunteers, I try to create a few opportunities each year for families to come in and share in celebrations of our learning.”

Nailed it. And no mention of nailing Olan.

“Oh, that sounds wonderful. Can you tell us about one of those experiences?”

“Well before the holiday break, we had a community potluck where each child’s family was encouraged to bring in a dish representative of their culture or heritage. And in two weeks, we’re having a reading celebration where we’ll retellThe Very Hungry Caterpillaras a class, before each student uses a storyboard to retell to their family on their own.”

“Fantastic,” Dr. Hayes proclaims.

Their faces nod with full smiles, and both of them feverishly type as I speak. The visit and interview have loomed for months, and to have it finally happening, and going so well, makes my heart swell with a mixture of relief and pride. We spend the next thirty minutes chatting about my teaching philosophy, classroom management, engagement, and all the ways I try to make my classroom a special place for students. Shockingly, nobody asks if I’m having a torrid affair with the father of one of my students.

Once Dr. Hayes and Mr. Ali depart, a small pang of guilt pokes at me. Olan and I have kept our relationship a secret because we’re worried about how it would be perceived. The truth is there’s no rule against it. What other people think about us is none of our business. I know this, yet there’s an empty feeling in the pit of my stomach. This isn’t only about me. Pelletier Elementary needs this Teacher of the Year win, and I won’t do anything to jeopardize it.

Chapter26

Olan: How did it go?

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